


Labyrinth

by dementia_hormones



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Labyrinth - Freeform, M/M, Oral Sex, Secret Identity, challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:49:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2500190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementia_hormones/pseuds/dementia_hormones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olivier Giroud visits a labyrinth with his fiance, Michael Ballack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Labyrinth

**Author's Note:**

> Over the summer, I threw a bunch of footballers' names into a hat, picked out a random pairing, and the wrote a story using a bunch of random prompts. The prompts I got were Labyrinth, Secret Identity, and Toughness. The pairing? Giroud & Ballack. This is the first fic I've ever published online. So here you go!

The moon beamed down through evergreen shrubs, casting shadows on the ground around him. He breathed in the crisp, autumn air, a small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. Autumn was his favorite season, and his patience had paid off tonight. He was usually was compliant with what his fiance wanted to do, which was usually stay in and try to catch up on his work. But sometimes, once in a blue moon, Michael Ballack would look up at him from his laptop, and ask, "What are you in the mood for?"

And when those rare moments came, Olivier Giroud was always ready. No one would ever guess it, but always kept an endless mental list of gooey, gushy, overly cliche, and romantic dates ready whenever the moment arose. During the two years they had been dating, he'd used this list only a handful of times.

Michael was a workaholic with severe tunnel vision for his career. His position as a defense software engineer kept him at his office for long hours, and he’d often skip coming home at night. Olivier knew it was unrealistic to think that his partner could remember that he existed, but he did. Sometimes. However, he'd rather have Michael in his current, unavailable form than not at all. One could say he was pussy-whipped for the guy.

Michael had looked up that evening, his green eyes meeting Olivier's blue, finally focusing on him, and waited for an answer. And Olivier had given him an easy smile, as if he hadn't waited weeks for that moment. "Pumpkin patch."

It didn't take them long to get there. Michael always drove more than slightly over the speed limit, but Olivier had never seen him get a ticket. Michael would cut dangerously sharp into corners, blowing though stop signs and the occasional red light and causing Olivier's heart to pound in a mix of terror and arousal. It only secured Olivier to Michael's side; for all of the down time spent dating Michael, times like these were completely worth it. 

As they approached the pumpkin patch, distant shadows turned into bushes, looming squarely ahead of them. Michael down-shifted the car and zoomed into a spot in the empty parking lot. Halloween had past, and this pumpkin patch would remain vacant for another three seasons. Especially at night. 

They stepped out of car and made their way to the front gate. The car chirping from behind as Michael locked it. The bushes were more like very tall shrubs, and they couldn't see what was on the other side of them. Olivier caught sight of the "NO TRESPASSING" sign on the gate and felt his face break into a wide grin. He swallowed, his body thrumming with anticipation, and held a hand out to the other man.

Michael obediently took it, allowing himself to be lead forward. The gate, as tall as the bushes, loomed above them. It was locked with a large padlock. Climbing it seemed unlikely, as the bars were too far apart, making it impossible to gain footing.

"Damn. It's locked. How will we get in?" asked Olivier.

"Don't worry, liebchen. I have a solution," Michael answered, dashingly. He pulled a tension wrench and a small pick from inside his leather jacket and went to work on the lock.

Olivier rolled his eyes, but watched as Michael fiddled with the tools. He wasn't born yesterday - he knew that Michael wasn't just a software engineer for the government. He knew it was only part his job description. On top of his handiness with tools and the possession of said tools, Michael had too many other skills that didn't make sense. 

He spoke more than just a few languages: French (whispering sweet nothings into Olivier's ear in his own language drove him wild), German (Michael’s native language even more so), English, Russian, Chinese... There were others too. Olivier couldn't even count the number of languages Michael knew on his hands. 

Michael also had the uncanny ability to tell when Olivier wasn't telling the truth. For instance, the last time they'd taken a trip to the beach, they'd stumbled upon a couple doing the nasty behind a rock. After they'd passed, Oliver had primly declared he'd never be caught dead doing something like that. The next thing he knew, he'd been slammed up against a tree and Michael had fucked him from behind. He couldn't remember ever having that many scratches on his stomach, or the last time he'd come that hard. 

And of course, Michael was excellent at getting around or through things: Olivier's pants, private clubs, locked doors... Like he was doing now. He knew these weren't skills that normal people had. But he'd never asked, and Michael had never shared. Michael kept Olivier firmly compartmentalized in to the significant other category. Olivier didn't expect it to change any time soon, so he just went with the fact that Michael carried around locksmith tools as if it made perfect sense.

Wind blew through the hedges, rustling their branches and sending a chill through Olivier's body. He stood under the shadows of the hedges, appreciating the broad back of his lover, and waited for him to pick the lock. He wasn't the least bit shocked when he heard a loud click and an "aha!" 

Olivier bounded past Michael and through the gate, slapping him on the back and calling, “good work!” over his shoulder. He all but skipped into the hedges, not waiting up. He suspected it was a labyrinth, but he needed to know if he was right. Plus, he wanted to leave Michael hanging for just a little bit. Let him squirm.

"Hey, wait up!" Michael shouted, trotting in behind him. He slipped one hand into Olivier's, the other hand going down to turn off the phone in his pocket. Oliver caught Michael’s eye as he did so.

“Tonight is for you,” said Michael, planting a kiss on his cheek.

The path darkened as they headed further into the maze, the hedges funneling them into a small crevice before splitting into two different pathways.

“Oh man, it is a labyrinth! I swear, I didn't even know! What if we get lost? No one will ever find us. What if it leads to a portal and we go through it and can’t get back? What if there’s an ax-murderer waiting for us, just waiting for the perfect time to chop our heads off? ” Oliver bubbled in excitement. 

Strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close. 

"I’ll protect you if there’s anything in here. Besides, I prefer it this way. Just us," whispered Michael, hot breath tickling his cold ear. He nuzzled Olivier’s earlobe with his nose, then slipped his tongue behind his ear, wet and promising. 

“What, you’ll pull out another one of your tools? Or you could just use your bare hands. Or maybe you've got a gun, hmm?” Olivier quipped, grinding his buttocks into his lover. He felt hardness pressing against him, even through the layers of their clothing.

Michael let out a half-laugh, half-groan. “You could say I've got something, but it’s for you,” he retorted, thrusting forward with his hips and pressing Olivier into the bushes. 

The hedges closed in, their sharp branches scratching at Olivier’s exposed skin. He twisted around to face Michael, resting his hands on Michael’s broad shoulders, He licked along the line of Michael’s jaw upwards, wet and testing, stubble scraping his tongue. Then pecked his way downwards, little kisses, until he reached Michael’s mouth. He loved kissing Michael, loved the contrast of Michael’s five o’clock shadow to his full, soft lips. Michael’s hand snaked up to curl around the base of his neck and stroke the skin there. 

Olivier sighed into Michael’s mouth, content to just kiss, but Michael’s other hand moved down between them to undo the fly of Olivier’s jeans. The hand pressed against Olivier’s arousal, making him groan. Michael slipped his hand inside of Olivier’s underwear, curling fingers around his length and stroked lightly, bringing him to full hardness. 

“Oh god, Micha,” he panted into Michael’s mouth. He thrust his hips forward, trying to increase the pressure. Michael smiled against his mouth and glided his thumb over the tip.

“You’re wet. Need to taste you,” he said, the hunger apparent in his voice. He squatted down, steadying Olivier’s hips with his hands. He licked over the slit of Olivier’s cock a few times, delving into it, ran it underneath the head to find the small band of tissue there. Olivier threw his head back, harsh gasps escaping from his mouth. 

At the same time, Michael gently cupped his balls, sliding over the sensitive skin with his thumb. He continued to stroke his tongue relentlessly into that spot, driving Olivier crazy with pleasure. It was so direct, almost too much.

“Micha, please,” he whimpered, grasping at the branches behind him. 

“What?” Michael stopped for a moment and looked up, grinning. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’re playing dirty.”

“Not as dirty as you look right now. You should see yourself, liebchen. It’s a very good look for you,” Michael teased, but he planted an apologetic kiss on the tip of Olivier’s cock. He took Olivier into his mouth, thick lips spreading apart. Olivier wanted to shut his eyes with how good it felt, but the image of his cock disappearing into his lover’s mouth was just…obscene. 

Michael began to move his head, bobbing up and down on Olivier’s shaft, his tongue making sure to rub over that small fold under the head of his cock with each stroke. The fingers that were still stroking his balls moved behind them to nudge at the crevice there. In time with his pumping, he prodded rhythmically with his fingers at his Olivier’s perineum, hitting his prostrate from the outside. The pace was slow, but strong, and the pleasure was building quickly.

He couldn't stand it anymore and squeezed his eyes shut. Spine and head arched back, he cried out sharply. He didn't care if anyone heard him, not that there was anyone around to. Michael was efficient and effective when it came to sex. He knew where each one of Olivier’s pleasure spots was, and hitting them all at once was bringing him close to the edge. 

Michael was relentless, aiming to make quick work of Olivier. Above the current of pleasure in his head, the thought registered that Michael was being a bit unfair. Michael knew Olivier loved it when he drew things out, and normally took his time with oral sex. He would bring Olivier slowly to the brink. Get him good and ready. Then they’d fuck. 

But not tonight. Michael sped up, burying Olivier’s cock in his mouth to the hilt until it was slamming the back of his throat. He jammed his fingers into Olivier’s perineum, hitting his prostrate over and over. 

Olivier’s vision turned white. “Micha, I’m, I’m-” he choked out. He froze as his orgasm him. Michael clutched at his right hip supporting him, as his legs shook. He drank the spurting fluid down, throat convulsing greedily. 

Pangs of pleasure continued to jolt up into Olivier’s spine, and his body gave a giant shudder. He couldn't stand any longer, and felt his knees bend. Michael gently helped him lower himself to the ground and into Michael’s lap. He enveloped Olivier in a hug, and Oliver leaned his head back on to his shoulder, panting to catch his breath.

“You played dirty,” he said after a few moments. 

“I know. I couldn't help it. It’s been too long since I got to taste you.” 

“And whose fault is that?”

Michael sighed and kissed his temple.

“You’re awful, you know that?”

“Mm.”

“But I can’t change that about you. At least you have other redeeming qualities.”

“Like?”

Olivier wriggled his ass against Michael’s still present, even-harder-than-before bulge.“Like that.” 

“You like it, eh?”

“Yes.”

“What do you like about it?”

“How big it is. And how hard it gets for me. And how it feels inside of me.” Olivier tried to shift in Michael’s arms so that he could get at his fiance's pants. But Michael held him firm.

“No, liebchen. I can wait. Why don’t we see what’s at the end of this maze. Then, we’ll go home, and I’ll let you do anything you want to me. How does that sound?”

The thought of Michael walking around with that thick cock trapped in those tight jeans of his for the rest of the evening, then perhaps strapping Michael to the bed and leaving him there made Olivier hard again.

“Anything?”

“Of course. Tonight is for you, pumpkin.”

Yes, one could say Olivier Giroud was pussy-whipped for Michael Ballack. But there were worse things in life.


End file.
